MESSING AROUND IN MEXICO 



hungry. The occasional flare of a match be- 

 neath wide straw sombreros illumined the 

 lean, swarthy faces of our guides. Up a long 

 hogback we went, alongside a deep gorge, 

 then into a black canon, the perpendicular 

 walls of which crowded so close that we could 

 touch them on either side. Out of this and 

 into another valley. It was a relief to slip off 

 of those desert Fords and plod through the 

 ankle-deep sand. Macario had armed himself 

 with a stick, and with it he beat clouds of 

 choking dust from the laggard animals; but 

 they appeared to enjoy it. Whenever one 

 found a dead bush, particularly dry and 

 brittle, he ate it with meditative relish, the 

 while Macario yelled hoarse profanities and 

 dislocated his shoulders by flailing the nearest 

 portion of the burro's anatomy. 



The vegetation had changed here. The 

 desert was forested with twisted growths, 

 doubly distorted by the moon. Leafless trunks 

 towered on every hand like the stubs left in 

 the track of a forest fire. 



About midnight we drew up to the foot of 

 a barren ridge and crept into a tiny cavern, 

 perhaps three feet high at the entrance and 

 five feet deep. Amid sighs and groans, we 



255 



